Twas the night
by 00000009
Summary: Christmas Eve and the internet is out. Through a process of parental elimination Haruka is Hotaru's designated homework assistant. Quick, fun one-shot. Complete.


It was a desperate sound. The most tragic words ever spoken in the thick of an evening. The plaintiff cry of the child could be heard throughout the building; curtains flickered, the windows shivered, the Christmas tree lights stuttered.

In her bedroom, the guardian of time replaced a nail polish bottle on her dresser, and looked over to her right.

In the kitchen, the soldier of the seas dropped the strawberries in her hands and looked up to her left.

In the lounge, the soldier of the skies turned up the volume on the sports channel and rolled her eyes.

"THE WI-FI IS OUT!"

Hotaru scampered down the stairs. The level of 7-year-old despair was supreme. A crisis of world-ending proportions. She sprinted across to the kitchen. With missile-like aim she terminated her rush with her face planted in her mother's apron. She hugged the knees of her last hope as though to release them would be surely to drown. Michiru steadied herself against the counter.

"It'spoemstomorrowandI didn'tdonload thewordsandIdon't remeberthemandI'mscaredoftalkinginfrontofthekidsandI'mgonnadie."

Michiru rinsed her hands, dried them, placed them on two skinny shoulders and slowly drew her daughter back to look into her eyes "Okay, okay. And breathe…" She nodded. "And once more, but slowly…"

"I'm gonna die, I said." A lower lip trembled.

"I see. Okay. From the beginning though?"

Hotaru's eyes were brimming. "We have school poems tomorrow."

"Oh? That sounds fun."

"It's not. You have to say them in front of the class."

"Ah, you're afraid of public speaking, ne? You know who is great at public speaking?"

"It's not just -" the tears had begun. "It's not just that…"

"Sure, sure. _Haruka?_ " she called from the kitchen.

The keening sound of televised engines was abruptly shut off. Hotaru continued to whimper with the finer detail of her impossible situation. After a considerable spell, a doubtful-looking blonde entered the kitchen, hands pocketed, eyebrows low. Then she saw the kitchen counter.

"Hey, cute, you're making little Santa hats out of strawberries!"

"They're for tomorrow."

" _Every_ thing's for tomorrow" she raised an eyebrow, smiling slowly.

The smile was returned.

"I enjoy having the day off with you too, but we have a more pressing concern this evening."

Haruka lifted 'the concern' in her arms and up into the air in an attempt to elicit a smile. "Hey, hey. You wanna come and watch the races with me so your Mama can finish her kitchen stuff?"

The smile was not elicited.

"No." She scowled. "I need to do my homework. There's no internet."

"Inter-not?

"Don't say dad jokes."

"Ah, there was once a world where no internet existed…"

"I know. The silver millennium."

"Eh? You'd be surprised."

"It's not funny."

"Hey, _dial-up_ wasn't funny."

"Haruka," Michiru interjected, "can you take her over to a friend's where she can download her work?"

"I… it's snowing."

" _Lightly_."

"Isn't Setsuna free?"

"She's doing lady preparations." Hotaru lamented.

"Ah. Such hairy legs. Better not interrupt. Ok! Since I don't suffer that affliction I will save you. What's this download?"

"The poem that starts with 'The Night before Christmas'."

The two thankfully exited the kitchen.

"That one? I know it off by heart. We don't need the internet. Let's go to the lounge. We can do a practice recital afterwards. Sound good?"

"Maybe."

A more muted sound of race cars resumed from the lounge. In time it was overlaid by occasional exclamations and bursts of laughter. Setsuna picked up her nail polish in "Magdalena Red" and resumed careful application. Michiru washed her hands once more and snicked away the green strawberry stalks.

Balance.

Focus.

Peace.

It was nearing 11 o' clock when the household was gathered in the lounge. Haruka was sitting back on the sofa with a languid smile and an arm snaked behind her partner's back. Setsuna sat off to the side, interlacing her fingers upon which shone nails with 3 perfect layers of Magdalena red. Hotaru stood in front of the Christmas tree, earnestly clasping handwritten sheets.

"My name is Tomoe Hotaru and I am going to read the poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by the 19th century poet Clement Clarke Moore, as adapted by the 21st century racer Tenoh Haruka."

The named adapter grinned and ignored the looks that were shot at her from both directions. Hotaru swallowed and looked down at the paper.

"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the mansion  
No music was playing, not even a cancion;  
No one had hung up their socks anyway,  
'Cos this is Japan; and it's not washing day."

Setsuna's expression darkened. Michiru stiffened. Haruka nodded encouragingly.

"The children were nestled all snug in their beds,  
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;  
And mamma in her negligee, and I in my onesie,  
Had both gone to sleep, and were missing the grand prix,"

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  
Away to the window I flew like a flash,  
And saw a tanuki eating our trash."

"Doesn't event make sense…" Setsuna muttered

"The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow  
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,  
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,  
But a Ferrari V12, and eight tiny reindeer,

With an impressive driver, so quick on the snow,  
I knew in a moment it must be Tenoh.  
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,  
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!  
And anyone else from the harem who fits in!  
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!  
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,  
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,  
With a car load of toys, to suit adults too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,  
Down the chimney the driver came with a bound.

Ash made her suit dirty as that of a hobo's,  
So it was quite hard to make out all the logos;  
A bundle of toys she had flung on her back,  
And she looked quite a vision just opening her pack.

Her eyes - how they twinkled! her dimples how merry!  
Her legs were amazing, and not at all hairy!  
Her luscious pink lips were drawn up like a bow,  
But sadly, no beard was she able to grow;

"Baka." Michiru sighed.

The stump of a pipe she held tight in her teeth,  
But she blew only bubbles; smoking's bad for your heal…th.  
He had chiselled features and a fine rock-hard belly,  
One look would've turned women's' knees into jelly."

"Modest too?"

"Shh, you'll miss the good bit."

"She was handsome and tall, a right dashing fellow,  
With eyes that were green; and hair that was yellow  
A wink of her eye and a cock of her head,  
Would surely compel any woman to bed;

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,  
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,  
And laying her finger inside of –

" _A_ side of" Haruka corrected.

\- aside of her nose,  
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose;

She sprang to her car, to her team gave a whistle,  
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  
But I heard her exclaim, "With a little bit of luck,  
You'll go to bed early SO THE ADULTS CAN – "

" _Ha_ ruka!"

"-SLEEP!" Hotaru finished. "Don't you like it, Michiru-mama? I know the last bit doesn't rhyme."

"It's post-modern." Haruka offered, clapping. "Impassioned delivery. Bravo!"

"You think it needs a different ending?"

"I think I need a drink." Setsuna muttered, massaging her right temple.

"Mulled wine!" Haruka leapt up.

"It was lovely." Michiru gathered her daughter in her lap and kissed her forehead. Very clever. So clever that I think you can have the day off school tomorrow."

"I don't need to say my poem?"

"I'll write a note to your teachers. How about we take a trip out of town to see the lights, okay?"

"Yay! All of us? _Every_ one?"

"Yes, _Tiny Tim_." Setsuna smiled. "The lab is closed tomorrow anyhow."

"Wait, what?" Haruka called from the kitchen. She appeared instantaneously with 1 jug, 3 glasses, and an expression of horror.

"Setsuna," she spoke through her teeth, "I though you two were gonna..." She tilted her head to the door, "And _we_ , y'know, we were gonna…" she raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, _now_ you're at a loss for words, Shakespeare?"

The glasses were placed on the coffee table. Her daughter looked up from her position on Michiru's lap with a puppy-like expression. "You don't want to see the Christmas lights?"

The accused sighed. "Of course. I _love_ seeing the Christmas lights."

"Yay!" came the refrain.

"…yay…" Haruka smiled weakly.

"Can I have mole wine too?"

"Mole wine?"

"That one with all the fruits?"

"This wine is for grow-ups."

"But moles made it?"

"…Yes."

"Haruka!" Michiru sent a warning look over the head of their child. "Can you refrain from providing our daughter with _further_ misinformation?"

"Grown-ups have all the fun." Hotaru pouted.

"In theory." Haruka nodded. "Come. We can make you some grape juice mole wine."

" _Mulled_ wine." Michiru corrected.

"You would have me provide our seven-year-old with liquor?"

"Very funny. If you're going into my kitchen you're going to be supervised."

"I'll bring the wine." Setsuna offered.

"Which kind?" Hotaru chirped.

"All of it."


End file.
